


Will He

by KyDesert



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Short One Shot, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyDesert/pseuds/KyDesert
Summary: Connor feels the barrel of a cold gun press itself right against his chin, the angle perfect for the completion of his last mission. The trigger feels impossible to press, yet the solution is quick, easy.He supposes it's not just a gun in his hand but a choice, an opportunity. He takes it.This is what it will mean to die in front of the world.





	Will He

The air’s a cold snap against his face, still and metallic. Blood and cold metal, Thirium and snow. Markus’s voice isn’t there, but neither is Amanda’s—it’s all just the loud roar of a snowstorm he was sure he’d died in. Some part of him definitely had. 

He can feel the perfect circle of the gun’s barrel on the bottom of his chin, and if he presses any harder he’s sure the Thirium will well in a perfect blue circle right under his pale skin. His eyes are so rolled back in his head he can feel his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. He presses harder. 

Time’s moving slowly. Markus’s words are coming into focus, and they sound stretched, distorted. If he didn’t know any better, or if he were to squeeze his eyes a little tighter shut, he’d say they were all underwater, drowning in some cold subarctic ocean. 

He pulls the trigger. 

There’s a moment. A pause. He’s in shutdown mode, but his eyes and the visual processors that pair with them are still online. He supposes he can… feel it. The cold, the ground as it rushes up to meet him. Markus is in front of him, eyes on the hole in the top of his head and then eyes staring straight into his. He’s got no doubt his insides are pulsing  _ red _ from chin to crown. 

Markus is speaking to him, jostling him like he’s not going to shut down in the next minute, like there’s hope, like he can  _ save him _ . There’s a prompt somewhere, distorted. He terminates it. 

Hank’s there. He wishes he could do something. But he’s as good as dead at this point, his whole body rerouting power to his head in vain, a doomed self repair prompt running. He thought the angle was perfect, but his backup processors are still online. Shutdown is imminent, but he’d needed an instakill. 

Hank pulls his dead weight body into his lap, and Connor’s head rolls right in the crook of his neck, so close he imagines he can feel the heat coming from the human’s body. “You’re okay son, everything’s going to be alright.” 

He wants to close his eyes. He doesn’t want Hank to pull away to see his eyes plastered open like some doll, biocomponents all there and silent. But he can barely even think now. The prompt renews itself, and he forces it away, terminates the near illegible string of code. 

Hank takes a fistful of Connor’s oversized jacket and lays his head down on top of Connor’s, tears drying into frigid lines on his face. No doubt the wetness on his face is going to freeze before it evaporates, turning his cheeks stiff and red. There’s already moisture freezing into his beard. New tears flow to replace the old ones. Hank won’t stop crying. 

Connor’s got three seconds. He can see a pinprick of light in the night sky, past all of the ambient lights of the city. It’s to the right of Markus’s head, approximately seven miles—

 

_ uP1)aD // m3m_ry]?  _

 

He terminates it. 

 

In the distance, they hear sirens. 

**Author's Note:**

> hmm sorry guys


End file.
